Where Grey Ships Sail
by Eliot Rosewater
Summary: After a long estrangement, Loki and Thor reunited for a mutually beneficial quest. The hardest part of the endeavor turns out to be parting ways when it's over.
1. Part 1

_ What in the Nine have I gotten myself into? _

Loki is panicking. By all rights, he should not be here. This is not his job. This was never supposed to be his responsibility. In fact, he has taken steps over the past several decades to ensure that he would never be in this type of position. Now, would Thor please get up so Loki can be on his way?

For whatever reason, Loki can't make himself move. Thor is lying like a dead thing on the forest floor, one leg burned and mangled beyond belief. But he will heal like always. Loki had seen this happen several times when he was someone else. Thor gets in fights; Thor gets injured; Thor gets better; Thor is a hero. That is a story Loki is only too familiar with. So why can't he get to his feet and disappear? (Besides the obvious reason.)

Thor rolls onto his side and groans. Relief so intense it hurts floods through Loki when he sees those signs of life. Loki remains absolutely still while the God of Thunder takes rapid, ragged breaths. Perhaps Thor won't notice that he's still here, that he has gone off the script.

"Did you get it?" Thor asks.

"Yes," Loki says.

"Good." Thor goes back to trying to catch his breath.

A long silence passes between them. It could have been hours. Loki doesn't move, and Thor breathes.

"Why are you still here?" the older asks.

"Can you stand?" the younger responds.

"What?"

"Can you stand? Your leg."

Thor looks down to the leg in question. There really is no doubt that the limb cannot support any weight. He looks back to Loki. "It will heal. There's no need for you to linger."

Loki nods but says, "I won't leave you in a forest if you can't defend yourself."

"What's this?" Thor says.

This time Loki shakes his head side to side. "You are a valuable ally. For all that I am I am not cruel to someone who has just helped me."

"Since when?" Thor asks.

Loki doesn't say anything because for once his thoughts are in agreement with Thor.

"You haven't used it yet," Thor observes. His breathing is normal and he sits up to examine his leg.

Neither of them wants to look at the other.

Loki rolls the stone between his palms. It is a greyish sort of violet. It feels warm and not because it has been clenched in his hand. In a hollow in the stone's center there is precious nectar. That nectar is the only reason he is here now. It's the only reason he is in Thor's company. The two of them had a common enemy. That is the one and only reason that they had agreed to take on this mission together. Thor, ever the hero, wanted to end an oppressive king's reign. Loki wanted to get this damn stone full of nectar that the king happened to have in his possession. Thor did not have a stealthy way to get to the king's land. Loki did not have the power to breach the king's defenses (which was why he needed the damn stone to begin with).

Thor found Loki's hidey-hole and propositioned him.

_I ask you this,_ Thor had said. _Lead me unobtrusively into Malmheim so that I may deal with Heðinn. After I have defeated him – and only after – I will aid you in acquiring the tonic stones. _

Loki had looked at him doubtfully. _What makes you think I want his precious stones so badly?_

_ I found you_.

That was all Thor said. That was all he _needed_ to say. Loki would not have let Thor find him if he didn't need the stone. All Thor would have needed to do in order to find Loki was go up to Heimdall and say 'Where is Loki?' and the gatekeeper could have told him. His magic was failing him like a degenerative disease. Thor must have known. Such a thing is not unheard of. Much like nerves misfiring and deteriorating, Loki's control over his seidr was fading. His seidr knows that something is wrong so it is trying to heal itself. Therein lays the problem. His seidr _can't_ heal the problem because his seidr _is _the problem. By constantly trying to fix him, the magic is sucking up more and more energy and perpetually making him worse. And Thor must have known because there was no other explanation for why Loki would not keep himself shielded from the all-seeing Heimdall after doing so all these years.

Why he won't crack the stone and drink the nectar now is unclear. Loki stares at his hard-won treasure. _Just open it_, his mind berates him. _Open it, you idiot. What are you waiting for?_ But his hands won't obey. They just cradle the warm stone. Loki can feel his magic fraying even now. It was quite fortunate that he had been able to execute the teleportation of both himself and Thor into (and out of) Malmheim. Lately, the spells and enchantments hadn't been working properly. He was like an inefficient engine that needed ten times the amount of fuel to travel the same distance that a single load used to provide. It is exhausting. Over the past year, Loki spent most of his time sleeping or eating. There wasn't a single ounce of energy left to be used on his usual acts of mayhem.

He isn't even sure if the stone's nectar can salvage his withering seidr at this point. The doubt curdles sourly in his stomach. Predictably, it jumps up his esophagus and Loki vomits on the forest floor. As quickly as he can without getting the sick on himself, Loki slides out of Thor's sight and reach. Some bizarre part of Loki is guilty about being glad the other has an injury prohibiting pursuit.

_Stop feeling guilty_, his brain tells his heart. _Other people's injuries have never bothered you before. You are not, nor have you ever been, Thor's keeper. _

Klaxons are sounding inside his head. Every instinct tells him to leave this place. _You are vulnerable_, the warning says. _Retreat quickly, you dolt!_ Because Loki is the type of person that trusts his instincts, he pulls at the remaining threads that connect him to his seidr – it _hurts_ – and falls through Yggdrasil's branches.

* * *

As it turns out, Loki does not fall very far. After taking a moment, he looks around and realizes that he is still in the same forest. He is too tired to care. He had, of course, meant to get further away than this, though he should be glad that the spell worked at all. Considering that Thor is lame at the moment, he should be safe for now. Seidr flows turbulently through him. It feels like motion sickness. Teleporting three times in a single day! Loki feels like he is already paying for such indulgence. He had hardly cast twenty spells in the past year. A fifty-year hibernation sounds just fine to him.

* * *

Loki wakes up without realizing that he fell asleep. It is something making a terrible racket through the foliage that eventually pulls him from unconsciousness. There isn't time to be worried about what could be barreling at him through a mostly-unfamiliar forest because he is too busy trying to figure out how long he has been asleep. It seems like a long time but he also still feels tired, so it couldn't have been too long. (Then again, he is _always _tired these days.) The information proves too difficult to recall. Loki almost doesn't care.

Whatever monster that is out there is almost upon him now. He wonders if he should get up and try to hide. It is a humorous thought to Loki and he laughs. The approaching creature stops when the laughter reaches it. Then it continues on a new path toward Loki. It is then that he realizes that it is Thor. Panic trills in Loki's chest but he can't move. His seidr won't listen when he tries to summon it. _Norns, don't let him find me! Where is that stupid stone? Why didn't I drink it as soon as I got it?_ Loki struggles to get up. His arms shake unsteadily under the weight of his torso. Futilely, he tries once more to pull on the strings of his magic but it's still unresponsive. It takes energy to use magic, and energy is something he has been lacking terribly of late. He is a bathtub; faucet constantly running but no plug to stop the water from slipping down the drain. All that power slipping away by malfunctioning seidr. It has become a parasite, leeching everything out of him. Loki curses the paradox he's trapped himself in.

"Loki?" Thor calls. He is so close.

Elbows buckling, Loki lies prone on the forest floor. _Just as well,_ he thinks. _Maybe he'll step right over me._

But fate has never been kind to the Liesmith.

Relief is heavy in Thor's voice when he finds Loki. "Odin's beard, Loki! I've been looking for you for days! I knew you hadn't gone far."

Loki frowns into the leafy carpet. _Days?_ _Have I been asleep that long? _He looks up to Thor, careful to hide his confusion. It's then that he notices the improvised bandages. Thor had braced his mangled leg with a set of slats that were too thick to be mere sticks but too thin to be tree branches. He'd said that he'd been looking for Loki for days, but the leg did not look anymore healed than it did when last Loki saw Thor. Something squirms in the trickster's chest and he fears he'll vomit again.

"Loki?" Thor painfully and heavily drops himself to the ground beside him. Holding the grey-violet stone out for inspection, Thor says, "You dropped the tonic stone when you disappeared earlier. Are you well?"

The words sound so absurd in Loki's ears that he laughs manically. He regrets it, though, because a heavy tiredness falls over him once the laughter ceases. His eyelids close while his smile fades.

"Loki?"

"Go away," he says with eyes still closed.

"I will not."

"Then be quiet."

So he was. Loki may have fallen asleep again. Whatever the case, when he opens his eyes next, the scenes around him seem different. Water is running nearby and the air is smoky. Experiencing these new sounds and smells is enough exertion for one day, so he goes to sleep.

* * *

He is shaking. It is annoying. Grunting his annoyance, Loki rolls onto his side. The shaking stops.

"So you are not dead," a voice says above him.

"I would have thought the fact that I'm still breathing would be indicative of that," Loki murmurs to the voice.

"You're right. As always."

"Don't mock me."

"Before I lose you again, would you please drink?"

Loki hums noncommittally.

Heat washes over him when he hears Thor shift. _Fire_, his brain supplies the word after searching. Instinctively, he moves toward it. If he doesn't think too much, he can trick himself into thinking that it is the warm embrace of a woman that used to call him son.

"Loki."

He hums again. That's positively cheery by his usual standards.

"Drink."

"Elephant."

"What?"

"I thought we were saying whatever random words that wandered into our minds."

"Please. You haven't had anything for days."

"I cannot starve."

"No, but you can stop breathing because your seidr has drained all your strength."

"Go away."

"I cannot."

Brow pinching together, Loki opens his eyes. Dark amoebas fill his vision until he blinks them away. Thor's visage swims into focus. He has that stupid stone gripped in his hand.

"I don't want that," Loki says of the stone.

Thor looks confused. "But it will heal you."

"It _might _heal me," he corrects. "Besides, if what you say is true and I haven't taken anything in for several days, then I will probably just vomit it all up. Then I'll be back where I started. Bring me water if you want me to drink so badly."

And Thor _does._

If Loki was confused before, he is absolutely bewildered now. None of this is right. This is not their routine. For how many centuries have they been using the same playbook? Loki commits acts of mischief and mayhem. Thor stops him and cleans it up. Loki escapes just barely, evading consequences yet again. The only other interaction they'd had since Loki renounced their relation was when Thor would find him and ask for help. It was not unheard of for Loki to work as a sort of high-maintenance mercenary (if any potential allies could meet his price). This was rare and usually didn't work out. Loki almost always refused. He never consented to help _anyone_ unless there was some benefit for him. The instant his interest was fulfilled, Loki disappeared without as much as a goodbye. Thor had come to accept that character trait. In the past, Loki had agreed to help on a few missions. But there had always been more people in the party. The trip to Malmheim was the only time that it had been just the two of them.

Never before had Loki lingered like this. He got what he wanted and was on his way. The fact that Loki had teleported Thor off that raging world in the first place was ten miles away from their status quo. When Loki had decided to forfeit the name Odinson, Thor had (surprisingly) respected his wishes. Not once since had Thor called Loki 'brother.' Thor wouldn't be bringing Loki water now, though, if he didn't consider the latter more than a person with whom he had a temporary alliance. Neither of them was acting as if that were true.

Nor did either of them want to say anything about it. For whatever reason, being in close proximity now was not unpleasant.

By the time Loki sits up, Thor has returned from wherever the sound of water is coming from. He moves slowly and clumsily because of the brace. Loki can tell it pains him. Perhaps he feels a fleeting impulse of pity because there is no other reason that Loki would force his leaden body to stand up and meet Thor halfway. Both of them fall more than sit on the ground around the fire. Loki is impressed to see that the fire is well tended. Sitting closer to the fire encourages the blood to flow through his frozen fingers. They are stiff from lack of use. Loki curls and uncurls his fingers around the metal of the traveling cup Thor has given him. The movement hurts at first but is effective.

"Why did you stay?" Loki asks the crackling fire.

"Why did you?" Thor asks.

Loki shrugs and sips at the water. Everything inside him churns as he swallows.

"Do you ever miss it?" comes Thor's voice. Loki strains to hear it over the hum of life in the forest. "Does anything ever remind you of what it was like before? Because there is _always_ something there reminding me of what I lost when you fell. They weren't particularly good times for you. Before, I mean. I understand that now. But I still miss them."

Chalk it up to the exhaustion; Loki does not lash back. Instead, he says calmly, "They weren't _all _bad."

Shadows dance on their faces when the once-brothers make eye contact, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

"Do you remember," Loki says, "when Volstagg nearly started a war in Svartalfheim?"

"Yes!" Thor roars with laughter. "The first war to ever be waged over a pastry! That was some of your best work!"

Loki smiles with false modesty. "I have to agree with you there. You and the Warriors Three had saved those dwarves from being brutally raided and not an hour later they are ready to cut your throats."

"You cannot blame a man for having an appetite after battle. Poor Volstagg was so confused. We were never much for learning the customs of other realms then, were we? Well, _you_ were, of course. Saved all of our hides."

"As I recall it, my diplomacy was not enough to stop the argument from coming to blows. Each of your hides did not return to Asgard unscathed."

Thor laughs again. "Right again. But your fast talking did get us out of Svartalfheim without a catastrophe. _And_ you talked the All-father out of dealing us the death penalty for nearly inciting a war."

"He never would have given any of you the death penalty," Loki whispers to the fire.

Just as quietly, Thor says, "No, I don't suppose he would have."

The fire spits little sparks into the sky. Loki watches a tiny piece of burning debris ride the wind until gravity pulls it down. The dampness of the grass extinguishes the fire before the debris completely burns. The water in his cup shivers. Fearing his hands will fail him, Loki places the metal cup on the ground. He feels like his body is made of lead and his bones are hollow at the same time. Thor's eyes burn holes into Loki's back as he lies down. More than anything, Loki is tired of feeling tired. Though he still feels fatigued now, it doesn't seem as bad as it did just two days ago.

"I didn't need you, you know," Thor says.

Loki looks at him from outside the ring of light cast by the fire. He is too tired to move his body, too hungry to do anything else to acknowledge the words.

Thor continues, "There were other ways I could have gotten to Malmheim. I didn't need your help. I wanted it."

Eyes closed again, Loki whispers, "How long have you known?"

"Quite some time. I received a summons from Heimdall one day. He told me he saw you. When I asked what sort of trouble you were getting up to, he told me that you weren't doing anything nefarious. He kept an eye on you. I would go to him occasionally and ask after you. He never had anything to report. After a year of this I figured something was wrong. There was no reason for you to go this long without shielding yourself. We assumed there was something wrong with your magic. I wanted to help you somehow but knew you wouldn't ever accept my aid knowingly. The situation on Malmheim was, admittedly, very mild. They could have handled it on their own eventually. Dethroning Heðinn was merely a front for helping you get the stone."

Personally, Loki is impressed that Thor could come up with that. Not that he'd ever say so. Though not terribly intricate, it is a fairly complex plan for Thor to have executed. And to have done it successfully! Mostly, Loki doesn't know how to feel about it. He has been tricked. The trickster has been played at his own game! He supposes he ought to be grateful that Thor helped him get the tonic without ever compromising Loki's dignity. Certainly Thor had never been so considerate and tactful in all his life.

"Loki," Thor says because those green eyes have fallen shut once more. He isn't ready for Loki to leave him alone for two more days. When he is asleep, Thor has nothing to occupy his thoughts. There is no distraction from the pain in his leg or the burning under his skin. There is nothing for him to do but worry that his little once-brother is wasting away because his greatest strength has suddenly betrayed him and is burning the life out of him. Loki's magic will pull the life from his body until there is nothing left to keep his heart pumping. His little once-brother is surely dying and Thor won't be there to save him because his damn leg is infected. The bacteria will surge through Thor's blood and he will die before his little once-brother. Loki will linger, sleeping in this exact spot in the forest until his lungs forgot how to breathe. He will be alone and he will suffer and he will be scared. There will be nothing Thor can do about it because he will already be dead.

That is not something Thor will accept. Even the thought of it makes him angry.

"Why haven't you used the stone?"

"I've already told you. . ." Loki lazily says. It takes him a long time to piece the words together.

Thor shakes his head. "Before. Why didn't you use it immediately?"

Loki is about to fall asleep again and they both know it. A full minute later, when Thor thought he was unconscious again, Loki says, "I don't know."

* * *

**Note:**

**Malmheim, its former king Heðinn, and the tonic stones are completely made-up by me. If any of those things already exist or are very similar to something that already exists, it is purely coincidental and unintentional. Forgive me my ignorance. **

**Everything else: Disclaimers, etc.**

**As always, responses (especially constructive criticisms) are welcome. **

**Cheers,**

**E.R. **


	2. Part 2

While Loki sleeps, Thor thinks. He worries some. He sleeps less. The time between Loki's waking moments is becoming longer. The time that he _is _awake is even shorter. Thor tries to talk to him so that he doesn't fall back asleep. If Loki is unconscious for more than two consecutive days, Thor shakes him and yells until he gets a response. A few times Thor had to stop himself from throwing caution to the wind and forcing the stone's nectar down Loki's throat. To ensure that he would not act against the trickster's wishes, Thor gives the stone to Loki when he's awake. Loki accepts it and stows it in his cloak without so much as looking at it.

Thor worries.

Nowhere in all the worlds is there a sure-fire way to fix what is wrong with his once-brother. The tonic in the stone is powerful, yes. There are records of it having stopped seidr from draining its host alive. None of these accounts are consistent though. Sometimes the stone succeeds in restoring control of one's seidr. Other accounts say that the stone's nectar stopped one from dying but the sorcerer no longer had access to his seidr. The tonic had worked like a lobotomy, severing magic from magician. It was still there, but there was no connection anymore. Their magic would lie forever dormant.

Still other records reported no affect at all. The sorcerer continued to decay until there was nothing left. There is no guarantee that the nectar will change anything. But it is the only thing in existence that has had some measure of success in saving the afflicted. Long have students of sorcery looked for ways to cure this deterioration. Even if Thor could call for Heimdall, there would be nothing the healers in Asgard could do for Loki. Foreign magic will not stop that that is indigenous to his being from consuming him. There is an endless log of reports of that method actually increasing the rate at which one's body fails.

Magic is great and a powerful tool, but it does not solve everything. Thor bitterly thinks that this is something Loki never really seemed to understand. He relies too heavily on seidr to see him through his troubles. _He was tempting fate_, Thor thinks.

_How much longer does he have? How much longer do _I _have?_

This thought in particular makes Thor's heart beat faster. His burned, crushed mess of a leg has not gotten better. Thor knew that it would not. Within the magma of Malmheim's mountains lives a unique substance found nowhere else. When that molten rock splashed on him, there was a pestilence in the magma. Normally, Æsir could survive and recover from just about anything, including amputation. But they were not invincible. There is a very small window of opportunity for infection to occur right after the wound is inflicted. When the magma seared his skin away, the contaminant was already through that window. He had realized that when he was improvising bandages. The bone is shattered. The skin is burned away, leaving scorched muscles exposed. A few days ago he stopped feeling anything in the limb. His skin is feverish. He knows this will kill him.

Thor only hopes that a resolution can be reached with Loki's condition before his own death occurs. But that doesn't seem likely. Despite his efforts, Thor reaches the point where he cannot support his own weight. He can do little more than crawl on the ground. He shouts and cries his frustration when Loki is asleep. When he is awake, however briefly, Loki watches Thor with those guarded eyes. Thor doesn't know what the cause of that troubled look on Loki's face is, but he can guess. If Thor cannot walk, he cannot collect water, let alone food. Water is the only thing his once-brother accepts. If Thor cannot provide even that for Loki, how great his failure must be.

Everything is as hot as the fires of Muspelheim. Thor is almost glad that his leg is numb now so that the limb wouldn't have to feel the heat that burns the rest of him. When the water runs out, his fever feels worse; an endless dry heat. Thor has not even sweat to transfer the fire away.

The moment comes where he cannot stay awake any longer. He looks at Loki and cries one thousand apologies about how he cannot take care of him. Loki doesn't respond, another victim of perpetual exhaustion. Fever dreams haunt Thor.

* * *

_ He was in the desert. Thor couldn't recall the last time he was in such an environment. It was no ordinary desert. Heat rose in waves over the sandy sea. He felt it through his boots. When he took a step, sand stuck to the melted material. Everything looked like wax dripping down a candle. Thin, gnarled trees decorated the landscape. They supported not a single leaf. They could have been sticks driven deep into the sand so that they would not yield to the howling wind. Thor couldn't hear himself think or breathe over the gusts of wind that sent millions of tiny grains of sand into his skin. No sand made it into his lungs, but they did sting his eyes. _

_ Then, over the white noise, he heard a great groaning. Turning, Thor saw a massive creature walking across the land. Its legs were enormous. How such slender things could support the weight of the beast was not important. Such things were trivial in dreams. The animal called again. Thor thought it was a rather beautiful sound. He started toward it. _

_ As he moved, he saw things he had not noticed before. A horse lay on its side, melting under the heat. It struggled toward him as he approached, but Thor did not stop. There was nothing he could do for it. The horse lamented the help that he couldn't offer. Giant hourglasses stood in pairs. They contained not sand but water, slipping at different velocities into the bottom reservoirs. Black wolves slept on top of one of the hourglasses in each pair. None of them stirred as Thor passed. _

_ Above his head, a whale swam in the sky as if this happened all the time. When it passed over Thor he was grateful for the coolness. Although he could spot no sun, the heat was stifling. There was no shadow, but Thor didn't think about it. A respite from the heat was welcome, no matter how brief. The melting-wax trees offered no shade because of the lack of a sun. The light seemed to come from the sand itself. Thor found that he was moving much slower the closer he got to the beast. He wanted so badly to find out what it was. Never in his long life had he seen something that remotely resembled this monster. The sand stretched endlessly between Thor and the creature. _

_ It felt as if he had been running for days. The heat robbed him of his strength. There was nothing around to quench his thirst. When he sat to rest, it became harder to get back up. When Thor slowed, though, so too did the creature. It was as if it was waiting for him. He thought the creature was leading him somewhere. Comforted by this knowledge, Thor let himself rest. The sky darkened but the temperature never dropped. He thought he heard the black wolves howling at night. Thor closed his eyes and listened to the creature groan, the wind blow, the whale whistle, the wolves howl at the moonless sky. If he concentrated hard enough, Thor thought he could hear that old horse crying what could have been. _

_ When the light was returning, Thor realized that he couldn't see the creature on the horizon anymore. He spun on the spot searching. A dark lump emerged from the sand up ahead. Never had he seen the animal bed down. Perhaps he could finally approach it now. Thor walked on towards it. His legs were heavy. He had to sit down and could not get back up. So he began to crawl. _

_ A new sound traveled on the wind to his ears. He looked up and saw someone approaching. They came from the direction of the lying-down animal. Because he was hot and tired, Thor lay down and waited for them to come to him. _

_ "_Thor_," said Loki's voice._

_ He opened his eyes to look at his visitor. Thor's heart was lightened when the image before him matched the voice. All those black wolves surrounded Loki when he sat beside Thor's prone form._

_ "What are you doing here?" Thor asked. "Not that I am not glad to see you." _

_ "I am here because you are," Loki said plainly. _

_ "You should not be here. It is so hot. You never handled the summers in Asgard well. You will surely be ill here."_

_ "I will manage." Loki waved a hand. "_Sit up now. I have something for you. Do you want it?_"_

_ Curious, Thor obeyed. For some reason it felt painful. "What is it?"_

_ "_Water._"_

_ "Oh. Yes. Thank you."_

_ Loki helped Thor drink from the cup. He allowed only small sips at a time. _

_ "It tastes so good," Thor said. "Water has never tasted so sweet in all my life."_

_ "_Funny how things we've had access to all our lives are never sweet until we need them._"_

_ It took well over an hour for Thor to drink all of it. After it was gone, Thor asked, "What about you? Don't you need water as well? You will never last out here."_

_ "_You will make better use of it than I would._"_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "_I know with certainty that this water will not be wasted on you."

_"But you will not last out here without water." _

_ Loki shook his head. "I never intended to stay." _

_ "Where are you going?"_

_ Without words, Loki pointed to the enormous animal that Thor had been chasing. _

_ "What is it?" Thor whispered._

_ All Loki said was, "It is mine."_

_ And that was all the information Thor required. _

_ "When I go back, do not follow," Loki said. _

_ "Why not?"_

_ "Because you will never catch up."_

_ "What if I want to see you again?" _

_ "You can't."_

_ "But what if I _want_ to?"_

_ Loki seemed to think about that. A thoughtful look came over his face. Finally, he said slowly, "If you ever wish to see me again, look to yourself. There you can always find me." _

_ Then he stood up and walked back toward the resting beast in the distance. All the black wolves went with him. Thor watched him go. The whale passed by overhead and offered its cooling protection. Eventually Loki and the wolves reached the long-legged beast. It rose up with grace and continued on its way. _

_ Thor didn't pursue._

* * *

And then one night it all seemed a little cooler. Thor wakes up without feeling like a burning man. His fever remains, but it has lessened significantly in intensity. The little metal cup that the two of them had used for water (when Thor was strong enough to fetch it) is beside him. He doesn't recall how it got there. Looking to his once-brother, Thor sees that he has moved. Though asleep again, Loki is much closer.

His mind fills in the blank spaces for him. And he knows what he suspects is true because his body has enough water to let the tears of gratitude fall from his eyes.

"You are not Odinson, but you are undoubtedly my brother," Thor says in a cracked voice.

His always-brother goes on sleeping. And because he is still hot and tired and in pain and overwhelmed, Thor goes to sleep too.

* * *

But when next he wakes, he is certain the sky has fallen. His fever is all but gone and sensation has returned to his leg. As he sits in shock, Thor watches the bone regenerate and the burned skin slough off, replaced by healthy flesh. Relief and dread crash into him harder than Mjolnir ever could. Stomach in knots, Thor reaches for that metal cup that is still beside him. It is sticky as if honey had been poured from it. He moans in despair, desperate for it not to be true. When he turns to the fire pit, he sees the evidence. Though it is darkened with ashes, a cracked-open stone is plainly visible in its midst.

Thor seizes Loki and shakes him. "How could you?" he shouts. "How could you do this to me? Tell me I'm wrong! Tell me this isn't what it looks like!"

Loki slowly comes to life. Confusion colors his face until his brain tells him that it is Thor that is shaking him and shouting so brokenheartedly. "Ah," he says when he catches up to Thor's words and their meaning.

Tears in his eyes, Thor shouts, "Why did you do this?"

The wan smile on Loki's face compliments the devastation in Thor's voice. "Do not ask questions you already know the answers to."

And Thor shouts without restraint. He screams because he is getting better. He yells because his little always-brother is going to leave without him. Thor bemoans his foolishness. He curses Loki for tricking him. Before, he was worried about dying before his brother and leaving him alone. Now, though, the very thought of living a second without him is enough to make Thor break the sky.

For his part, Loki just sits and lets Thor react. He had expected this. Thor is not selfish. Not anymore. Loki knew when he asked Thor if he wanted the water that the God of Thunder was delirious. But it was well within the bounds of the Liesmith's character to take advantage of such things. Loki had fetched the water from the nearby river himself. He had nearly gone right back to sleep once he returned, but he knew if he didn't do it then, he never would. So he had strained until the tonic stone cracked, and then mixed the nectar with the water. After he had gotten Thor to drink it, Loki laid down to sleep and felt better than he had in _decades_. He didn't wake up again until Thor started shouting and crying.

Thor's emotions are running so rampant that it begins to storm. _At least,_ Loki thinks, _we do not have to go to the river for water._ Thor takes hold of Loki's cloak and doesn't let go. Perhaps he is assuring himself that Loki has not left yet. Loki lets him. The canopy above their heads stops the worst of the deluge. A steady drip snakes between the leaves. Loki watches those drops as they make their jump down to the ground. This makes him sad. He doesn't want to watch things fall anymore. Leaning his head against Thor's shoulder, he settles in to wait out the storm.

* * *

The storm settles down until it is just steady rain. Thor begins to think in _lasts_. When was the last time he hunted with his brother? When was the last time they embraced? When the _last_? His throat aches to think of all the words he won't get to say to Loki. If only he had known. If Thor had known at the time when each of those lasts was occurring, he would have taken care to remember every last detail of them. He should have paid more attention to Loki. He should have realized when he was hurting. Thor should _not have let him fall_. He should have tried to help all those times before. When Odin brought that squawking baby home to Asgard, Thor never should have let it out of his sight.

Thor says, "Tell me what to do. What can I do for you?"

Loki's eyes are closed and his head is still resting against Thor's shoulder. "You may leave. You do not need to stay."

"We have spent far too much time apart. I will not leave you now."

"I know. You are my brother."

* * *

It is not long before Thor's leg is mostly healed. He walks tenderly on it as he gathers food, water, and fuel for the fire. He leaves Loki under his cape when he does this. Thor does not want to leave him alone for a second, but he cannot bear to be in his presence. Any composure he can hobble together is lost when he sits beside his brother. Thor knows it's selfish that he leaves. He told Loki that he'd be there until the end. But it simply hurts too much to stay all the time. Thor finds comfort reminding himself that he only leaves when Loki is asleep. His brother won't know the difference. The time he has alone in the forest restores the calm that so quickly leaves him in Loki's presence.

This is becoming harder and harder to do, though. Loki has become too uncomfortable to sleep for long. He just lies there, turning from side to side every few minutes. Thor can hear the effort it takes him to breathe. Loki's exhales come raspingly. The sound grates on Thor's ears. It is an ugly, harsh sound. He wants it all to end so that he may spare himself the pain of living through this experience. But he wants just as badly for Loki to never die.

Desperate thoughts wrestle in Thor's head. He thinks of storming back into Malmheim and finding another stone. They are rare and well-protected. Loki would not have needed to waste the one they had managed to procure if their defenses were not adequate. They (should have) killed Thor. But then he reasons that going to Malmheim will take a very long time, and who knows what would happen to Loki in that time? He cannot go back.

Asgard is his next thought. Rationally, Thor knows there is nothing for the golden city to offer his brother. No healer in the Nine can fix this. Only those damnable stones stand a fighting chance at curbing the decay. Be that as it may, Thor fights the urge to call out for Heimdall. No doubt the vigilant gatekeeper can see all that has and is happening.

All of this thinking reminds Thor of Jane. Sitting sentinel beside his tossing brother, Thor thinks of what it was like when Jane died. How_ long_ it had taken him to accept her absence. But that was different. Jane was a mortal human, and Thor knew that the day would come (very quickly) that they could no longer be together. Jane wasn't _meant_ to live forever. And all that Thor had come to accept. The two of them savored the time they had and then parted ways.

With his brother, Thor cannot make himself fit into that frame of mind. Because Loki isn't meant to be that sort of character. His was not a fleeting human life. He was supposed to live a long and loud, disruptive life. That he was dying now was _wrong_. Jane passing away so soon was not wrong. Sad and morose though it is, the fact is that death quickly follows life for mortals. It was not meant to be that way for Loki. And that was what made this anguishing.

Thor remembers being very young and leading his baby brother around by the hand. Loki would follow him anywhere. Thor remembers being embarrassed of this behavior when he grew older. How he wishes for it back now. In their youth, it was so simple. So easy. There were no rules or restrictions or expectations. They were simply two brothers walking in the same footprints. There was never any doubt that they loved one another. There was never a question of loyalty. When Loki was bullied, Thor fought back on his behalf. When Thor was in trouble, Loki fast-talked him out of it. Such blind faith they had in each other.

Thor wants that back. He wants to be small again; so small that problems such as the ones that plague him now would never notice him. He wants for Loki to be smaller still so that the harsh world could never deal him a single, cruel card. They could live together in their mother's pocket, safe and protected. There they would both know how precious and dear they were to each other.

Loki moves restlessly in his sleep. Thor tries to soothe him by running a hand through that dark, dark hair. Several strands come loose in his hand and Thor cries.

* * *

"Thor," Loki says.

The sound shakes Thor from his silent moping. "Yes?"

"It is cold."

Thor moves without really knowing what he can do. The fire is already burning as much as is safe. Loki is under both his cloak and Thor's cape. Those green eyes follow Thor's useless fluttering. Loki laughs soundlessly.

With some effort he says, "I don't mean that _I _am cold. Would you make it snow? You know how I love the snow."

Thor is relieved. That is something he can do. It feels good to be of use, to be able to provide something. He had spent so much time feeling useless. The action makes him feel better. The clouds roll in. At first, only rain falls. But the natural cold takes over, allowing snow to fall. Loki smiles at the flakes with half of his face.

"Thank you," Loki says.

Thor nods in acknowledgement. If he tries to speak, he knows his voice will fail him. It is the least he can do. He wonders if Loki only asked him to do this because he knew Thor wanted to feel useful. The snow might be more for Thor than it is for Loki. Thor decides that it doesn't really matter why. He is happy that it is here now.

"Thor."

"Yes?"

"I am not sorry, but I wish things could have been different."

"As do I."

"I know. I just thought you ought to hear it out loud."

The snow falls silently. For whatever reason, the flakes make it through the canopy better than the rain. Loki doesn't toss and turn so much.

"Thor."

"Yes?"

"Would you tell me a story?"

Thor is nervous. He was never the storyteller in the family. But there is nothing he would deny Loki now. "Which would you like to hear?"

"I don't know. All the titles escape my memory. Tell me a good one. Whichever strikes you first."

"Sure." Thor searches his mind. All the stories desert his mind now that he is searching for one. He reaches deep into his memory and says the only one that occurs to him. "How about _The Awful Man and the Hound_?"

Loki drags his finger through the thin layer of snow that has accumulated around them despite the fire. He hums his consent.

Choking back a breath, Thor says, "There once was a golden hound that loved an awful man. The man was looked down upon by the entire village. He was distant and cold, harsh and spoiled celebrations. But wherever the awful man went, the golden hound would turn up and make everything all right for the villagers. It's impossible to stay upset when a loyal hound is there to share your troubles.

"At the end of the day, the man would go back to his cabin beside the wood. One night, the hound followed the man home and howled outside his door. 'Go away,' the man told the golden hound, 'I have nothing to offer you.' But the hound didn't leave. The hound said, 'There is nothing I want but your company.'

"For seven nights, the hound sat outside the man's door and howled. The awful man could not make the hound leave no matter how much he ignored him. So eventually, after he returned from his busy day of making the villagers disgruntled, the awful man left the cabin door open so that the golden hound could enter. And so it was that the hound had a place to sleep in the awful man's cabin. This went on for several years. The man grew used to the golden hound's presence. They seldom spoke; only sitting in comfortable silence during the nights. Sometimes the hound brought back something he'd hunted during the day, and the man would prepare and cook the kill, feeding a fair share to the golden hound. But the man never stopped spoiling celebrations in the village and the golden hound never stopped comforting the villagers.

"One day – after several beautiful years – the hound could not get up from the place where he had curled up on the floor the night before. Usually the golden hound would see the awful man off as he headed out to the village. The man frowned at the disruption of routine.

"So the awful man sat down beside the golden hound and asked, 'Hound, why don't you see me off at the door like you always have before?' And the hound replied, 'I cannot get up.' 'Hound,' the awful man said, 'why can't you get up?' 'Because I am old and my legs cannot carry me a step farther,' said the hound.

"The awful man felt as he never had before. He knew his disquiet was not due to the deviation from their routine. He looked at the golden hound and felt horribly sad. The golden hound said, 'You should be at the village by now.' The awful man said, 'I cannot go to the village today.' 'Why can't you go?' asked the golden hound. And that awful man said, 'Because my only friend in the whole world is old and his legs cannot carry him a step farther.'

"For seven nights the awful man cared for the golden hound as he died. For seven nights the awful man fed the hound meat from his own hand and helped the hound drink delicious water. And for seven beautiful nights the awful man and the hound found true friendship in each other's presence without needing to say a word.

"On the seventh night, when both the awful man and the golden hound knew it was the end, the man asked, 'Why did you want my company so badly all those years ago? I am such an awful man.' The hound said, 'I wanted your company because I love you like no else ever has, does, or will. I love you without condition. I love you without words. I love you despite the trouble you cause for the villagers. They all say that you are an awful man, but to me you are an old hound's best friend.'

"And that awful man cried as he hadn't done since his childhood. He wished he had more quiet nights to spend beside the golden hound. Never had anyone shown him such love and loyalty without ever needing to say a word. He wished there was something he could do to make it up to the golden hound, to show the hound the same type of love that had just been shown to him.

"So the awful man cried and said, 'Oh, golden hound! Thank you! Thank you for loving me! I love you like nothing I ever have, do, or will love! Thank you! You are more than just an old hound. To me you are an awful man's redemption! To me you are a man's best friend. Thank you!'"

By the time Thor finishes the story, Loki has fallen asleep. It is a calm sleep at last. Thor feels gutted. He looks at his brother. Loki had written THANK YOU in the snow.

When he thinks about it, Thor decides that the Awful Man really wasn't all that bad.

* * *

Loki doesn't wake up after that. Sometimes he turns in his sleep and Thor thinks that he's come back. When this proves false, Thor feels like his heart has been swallowed by his stomach. A few times Loki mutters without consciousness about their mother. Thor wishes that she could be here, not only because Loki so clearly needs her, but because Thor needs her too. He is scared and, any moment now, he will be terribly, horribly alone.

There is no softening of this blow, so Thor cries. He cries for the brother that fell. He cries for all the details that he is sure to forget. He cries because time will not let his memory keep the sound of Loki's voice forever. He cries for the days of crippling loss that are sure to come. He cries for the Jötunn baby that was taken from its home. He cries loudly and messily. He cries in the way that feels like his throat is trying to jump out of his mouth. He cries for all the days they spent at odds, all the days they spent apart. He cries for the brother that came back to him in Malmheim.

Thor cries for Loki.

And when it happens, Thor feels full. He is glad he stayed until the end. A door has closed somewhere. It is lonely on this side, but Thor is glad he never left. Standing on his strong and sturdy legs, Thor gets to work. It has been a long time since he has fashioned anything with his own hands like this. He works without resting. He uses Mjolnir to galvanize the hull of the boat. The lightning gives the wooden boat a dull, metallic finish like a shadow. For the figurehead, he carves a crude wolf.

Thor sets his always-brother in the roughly-hewn vessel. He wishes he had more materials. If this were a different life, the second prince of Asgard would be sent off in a golden ship with everyone to see. For Loki's departure there is only Thor. To be sent away on a crude grey boat that was made by a clumsy hand would have been an insult. But a part of him wonders if this was what Loki wanted all along.

Making sure that his cape is secure around his brother's body, Thor shoves the boat off into the river. With the bow he had fashioned the first night he landed in this forest, he lets loose three flaming arrows. There is nothing to do but watch that little grey ship sail downstream. It is gone from his sight all too soon.

Thor turns from the river and looks toward the sky. As he calls for Heimdall, he realizes that he never asked where they were. He doesn't know where this forest is. At the same time that he realizes this, Thor decides that he doesn't want to know. He wasn't meant to know, because he wasn't meant to come back. Thor will never know where this river flows and where that grey ship sailed. It matters not. Because one day, very far away from now, he will find himself on a distant shore, and Loki will be there. And they will feel small and safe and protected.


End file.
